The Same Deep Water As You
by sarcasticdaisy
Summary: Puck needs money, sure, but kidnapping Hummel? The idea never seemed a viable option. In fact, it hadn't even crossed his mind until his cousin devises a plan to solve all his money problems and Puck becomes caught in the middle of it.


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This story contains graphic language, violence, attempted non-con, molestation, kidnap and some mild bondage. Puck/Kurt, brief OMC/Kurt. This is fiction! Spoilers up to 1.04 Preggers. Wonderful beta Lezi :)

**The Same Deep Water As You** / Chapter One

It happens suddenly, just as Kurt's walking across the schools empty parking lot after Glee. Tired and cranky, he's no more than ten feet away from his SUV when someone shouts "Hey, princess!"

It would've been the last straw after the long and stressful day he's had, but the voice is rough and masculine; completely unfamiliar. It's older-sounding in its deepness like a teacher's, or one of his fathers work buddies'. Although it's a catcall, one he would typically ignore, except this time it sparks his curiosity enough. Kurt clutches at the straps of his messenger bag as he turns around-

He catches a brief glimpse of dark hair and intense brown eyes before a hand roughly closed over his mouth. Kurt instinctively gasps in a breath so sweet, it's almost rotten-smelling.

His lips tingle, and desperate to move away, his hands fly up to tug on his assailants arm. He pulls and thrashes to no avail: the man is so much bigger, so much stronger than he is. A warm breath ghosts the shell of his ear, and an arm holds tight his waist, dragging him in closer as his toes scrape the asphalt. Through tear-filled eyes, Kurt notices they're moving towards a van.

Nails dig into thick arms and he kicks his legs, rearing his head in defiance, but with every breath he takes, he feels himself growing weaker by the second, and it is then that he realizes the horrid smell has a purpose.

Bar a miracle or a witness, he knows he's not going to be able to escape this.

His attacker is far bigger then he is, and the saturated cloth, paired with those huge, bruising fingers that clinch his cheeks and jaw, muffle his high-pitched screams.

No one can hear him

No one will come.

His breath comes in short, stuttered gasps; it takes less then thirty seconds for the drug to take affect.

Kurt feels so lightheaded and fuzzy. He lets his pained blurry eyes fall shut and he can practically feel his heartbeat slowing down. Feet dangle uselessly as the man lifts him completely off the ground, cradling him against his broad chest.

"You really are a pretty little thing, arent you?" The stranger purrs, making Kurts stomach drop. Teetering on the edge of unconsciousness, he is thrown into the back of the van and the last thing he hears is the rough, gravelly slide of the van's door before his vision goes black.

:::

_Noah, its Mike; I've got a surprise for you... a solution to all your problems. Meet me at my place around six._

:::

Kurt awakens with a shiver as a hand slides down his chest and along his stomach. His muscles involuntarily tremble beneath the soft touch. His breath catches and his eyes slowly flutter open.

Dark, honey-brown eyes meet his and Kurt scrambles back in surprise. The hand slides away from his body and the stranger moves forward, hovering above him-

"Don't-don't touch me," Kurt warns, and the stranger's head tilts to one side in appraisal.

The man isn't bad-looking, but he is older-he has to be Kurt's senoir by at least twelve years. But it's not the age that puts Kurt on edge; It's more about what lurks in the man's eyes. There's a darkness, completely unveiled by hunger that promises pain and heartbreak, along with something else that's dangerous and ugly. It makes Kurt want to scream.

The man smiles softly, and it's anything but kind. "We only have a few minutes before Noah shows up, and I'd really hate to bruise that pretty face of yours. You can play along, or I make you... Your choice," Kurts eyes widen.

He looks around the small bedroom, taking in everything from the nightstand and dresser to the small TV and mini fridge. While he's distracted, a hand slides between his pant-clad thighs. Kurt starts, and his hand is flying out before he realizes what he's doing. He slaps the stranger clear across the face, and it surprises them both. Before he even thinks about apologizing, the man is on him, pushing him back into the matress and devouring his neck, his jaw, his mouth...

His arms are pushed high above his head and held down tightly at the wrists, as the mouth nips and bites. The pressure causes Kurt's lower lip to split and his eyes water from the pain, fresh tears trailing down his cheeks and onto his neck.

"My God, you have the prettiest fucking mouth. I bet you could suck the chrome off a trailer hitch." The man growls tackily, his voice hot, breathy, and all-consuming. The words repeat in Kurt's head a few times like a nightmarish lullaby as a hand sneaks up under his body and grabs his ass, lifting him up and re-positioning him on the bed.

His pants slide down his hips and his assailants eyes are wide and glassy as he takes in the view. That quickly swoops back in attacking his. Kurt screams a loud, piercing scream that would put Jamie Lee Curtis to shame. His body is trembling, almost seizing, and his screams last all of five seconds before a hand latches onto his throat and squeezes. The edge of his vision blurs and tiny black dots float before his eyes.

"P-please," he moans. He can feel his heart beating too fast and blood is rushing to his ears and pounding in his head. It's deafening him, and when he finally can't take it any more, he stills. His body goes lax; he squeezes his eyes closed tight and tries to imagine that he's any other place than here.

:::

Puck does not bother knocking; he just walks into the house and grabs a beer from the fridge before heading straight for his cousins bedroom. He could use some good news right about now. Its five after six, and hes so fucking tired and stressed that hes actually looking forward to whatever the surprise Mike has in store for him.

He is hoping it is a job-like a real job where he can make some money and prove to Quinn that he's still worthwhile, that he can be successful and a good father, a real provider-

Distracted, Puck walks into the bedroom. It takes him a moment to realize what he's just walked in on: Mikes pants are down and hes kneeling over the top of someone, his head bowed in concentration

"Shit- I'm sorry, I'll just-" Puck starts to back out of the room but he stops short when he hears a soft, broken cry that sounds way too familiar.

:::

Kurt can feel a small bead of pre-come drooling onto his lower lip and he swallows hard, his stomach in knots. He's never done something like this before, voluntarily or not, and he shapes his lips into a thin, impenetrable line, in an attempt to deny the stranger access.

It only makes the man angrier and more demanding. A hand grabs a hold of his jaw and fingers dig into his face. Kurt's mouth is forced open and all he can do is wait-

"If I feel even the slightest scrape of your teeth, I swear to God, I'll go out to the garage and get my pliers, I will rip out every tooth from your pretty little head, one... by... one." His assailant spits, voice rough and intimidating. Kurt closes his eyes.

The threat weighs heavily on his mind and he can't help but picture a pair of pliers, a jar of teeth, and blood, so much blood that his stomach gives a violent lurch, and for a split second, he can almost taste bile rising up in his throat. Tossing his cookies right now, would be suicide, and he forces the urge back down. Struggling to catch his breath. Over his labored breathing, Kurt can hear footsteps.

The door creaks open. A second later, a voice stammers, "Shit-I'm sorry, I'll just-" The fingers tighten upon his jaw and the strangers eyes narrow dangerously, glaring down at him. Kurt can't help the raw, broken whimper that erupts from somewhere deep within himself.

It's as if a gunshot's gone off in the eerily silent room. The stranger stares down at him in frightening contempt, his eyes almost black now. The unearthly orbs are promising him a world of hurt as that hand tightens again. Another small cry-his, he realizes-fills the room.

"Hummel?"

Kurts heart skips a beat. He looks up, through wide, blurry eyes, and the lump in his throat is the size of a jawbreaker. and his heart's beating so fast now-too fast, but he can't help but feel a small glimmer of hope.

He starts to speak, or rather, he tries to. He only gets as far as "Hel-" before the man's fingers dig into his cheeks so hard, a sharp pain travels up the side of his face and into his ears. His plea dies on his lips.

The stranger never breaks eye contact with Kurt as he says, with a strange sort of calm, "Noah, why dont you meet me in the living room. Watch some TV or something; I'll be there in a few." His head tilts to one side in appraisal and his eyes shift. After a moment, he looks to the door and his body goes surprisingly ridged.

Apparently, being a monster doesn't make you invulnerable.

Kurt can hear the footsteps getting closer rather then farther away, and as a result, the pressure on his jaw eases slightly; the ache, however, never dissipates, just lingers. Kurt takes a deep, shaky breath.

Trembling from head to toe, he squeezes his eyes shut tight, and tries not to think about the finger-shaped bruises that will be discoloring his cheeks by tomorrow morning.

"What the fuck, Mike? You gay now? What the hell is?"

The harsh words coming from that voice are too familiar to ignore, Kurt's eyes snap back open and the angry, shocked expression on Pucks face quickly slips into one of obvious confusion.

He looks from Kurt to Mike, absorbing the situation. It doesnt take him long to put the pieces together.

Pucks eyes narrow and almost automatically, both hands pump into fists at his sides. "You're really fucking sick. That thing with Kara-and now this? What the hell are you thinking? He's-"

Mike finally lets go of Kurt completely, hopping out of the bed. Puck takes a step back and Kurt watches, his body frozen in place.

"It's nothing like Kara. I have a plan this time, okay? Just hear me out." He moves to grab Puck by the arm, but the glare Puck sends him is enough to make him back off.

Pucks eyes are on his again, and Kurt takes a deep, unsteady breath. Though he's never thought of Puck as the knight in shining armor type, he's really hoping the boy won't let him down now.

Kurt finds his voice, somehow. "Please," He whimpers. That's all it takes-Pucks face crumples and he moves to the bed, sitting down on the edge."Shit-are you okay?" He asks, face creased in worry. It is the nicest Puck's ever been to him and that's when Kurt realizes just how pathetic he must look.

_God must really hate me,_ Kurt thinks.

Sitting up, he pulls his pants back up and over his hips. He's thankful that he wasn't found fully exposed or in a more of a compromising position. Kurts eyes dart back to Mike, and he swallows hard.

Looking down at his hands, he see's there's already light bruising on his wrists. He shakes his head. "No. I-my cars still at the school, my dad... he-I-I need a ride home."

"You're not going anywhere," Mike laughs; Kurt bites his lower lip, but when he tastes a hint of blood and semen, he desperately rubs at his mouth with the back of his arm.

"Noah, you need money? Money's right here. He's an easy twenty-five grand-or more, whatever you wanna ask for the kid. I figure we've got better shot at keeping it on the DL, if we only ask for a few grand, but-

Puck looks like he's about to blow a gasket. "You snatched him?" He seethes. Kurt watches every muscle in Pucks body go dangerously tense.

"Yeah... after the game the other night. The stuff you said-I thought" Puck stands up again, and the bed dips.

"You know I was drunk off my ass that night, right? Whatever I said then... I never would have agreed to this. You know that I wouldn't."

Kurt can feel Mikes eyes on him again, but he refuses to meet the monsters gaze. To be honest, he is not even sure why the argument is still going on. Shouldnt Puck be taking him home now?

Staring down at the bruises, his mind wanders. The last thing he hears is Puck storming out of the room, growling, "If that's all this is, what the fuck were you doing with him in there

Feeling way too exposed, Kurt shakes his head in an attempt to clear it before looking at his surroundings with more alert, determined eyes. He rises, stepping away from the bed as quietly as he possibly can, and takes a moment to search for his bag. He begrudgingly realizes, it's nowhere in sight, so he lets it go in favor of making an escape now that he's been left alone.

Peeking outside the room and down the long hallway, he catches sight of a slightly cracked door. The sight makes his heart race. Slowly, walking primarily on his toes, he creeps toward the door.

He can hear muffled voices coming from the living room, and then: "Think about Quinn, think about your child!" Kurt's brow rises.

Kurt slips into what is a bathroom. Distracted by this new revelation, Kurt stumbles over the bathmat and just barely catches himself on the showers glass pane door.

He hisses and watches, wide-eyed, as it wobbles fiercely for few seconds. It makes too much noise for it not to be noticed, and, sure enough, the conversation in the other room comes to a halt. Kurt jumps for the door and pushes it shut, punching the lock in before stepping back.

His breath is coming in short pants as his eyes dart around for an escape. He finds that there's a small window in the corner, a few feet above the toilet. Kurt shuts the lid quickly and steps on top, sliding back the lock on the window.

_Bang, bang, bang!_

Kurt nearly jumps out of his skin at the noise of a heavy fist pounding on the door with nearly enough force to shake it off it's hinges. almost enough to shake it off its hinges. Kurt quickly pushes open the window, desperate to escape, only to see Mike rounding the corner outside. He slams it shut, starting to panic.

The banging from outside stops, and a few seconds later, the lock on the bathroom door clicks unlocked.

Puck walks in, holding a small safety pin in one hand. "I'm sorry," He says, moving closer to the other boy. Kurts back hits the wall and he frowns.

"I knew you couldnt be trusted," He bemoans.

Puck sighs and runs a hand over the back of his head, through the Mohawk, "Look... I wont let him touch you again, I swear. But I cant just let you go."

"Youre kidding, right?"

Puck shakes his head slowly, "Im sorry. I just-I need the money, alright. I promise nothing's gonna happen to you. Just one day, maybe two that's it."

Pushing his own feelings aside, Kurt thinks of his father, what his fathers reaction to a ransom demand would be like. He can feel bile rising up again, burning the back of his throat for the second time tonight.

His father can't be involved, he can never know.

"I can give you money. Kurt blurts, "I wont say anything about this, Itll be our little secret. I'll tell my dad I was mugged on the way home. Nobody else has to get involved," he says beseechingly at Puck. "Please."

Mike clears his throat as he steps into the bathroom. "Why should we believe you? What sort of guarantee can you give us that you arent gonna go running to the police the first chance you get?"

Kurt swallows, "I-" He looks desperately at Puck. Seeing the hope in the other boys eyes makes him feel slightly more confident. "This isn't exactly something I would want to get out. It-it would break my fathers heart and I don't think... Well, it wouldnt do much for my own reputation either."

There is a long pause, and then Puck asks, "How much money you got?"

"I have fifty or so in my bag and around two seventy-five in the bank." Puck shakes his head. Kurt rushes to draw him back in, rambling, "I mean, I might have more, Im not really sure. I could always pay you over time, like a hundred or so each month. My dad gives me around a hundred and fifty a month for helping out at the garage sometimes and for, like, clothes and shopping and shoes and stuff-"

Puck puts up a hand to silence him. "Okay-okay, that sounds..." Licking his lips, he turns his attention back to Mike who just shrugs, obviously annoyed that he's lost the argument. "Lets go get your bag. You can call your dad on the way to my place." Puck says, and Kurt blinks.

Both relieved and confused, Kurt asks, "You're not taking me home?"

Puck places a hand on his arm. "No. I need to pick up a bag first."

Kurt nods slowly. "Then youre going to take me home..." He says slowly, tentatively. "Right?

Puck sighs. "Yeah, Hummel, then I'm taking you home." Leading him by the arm, ignoring the way Kurt's body tenses, Puck fetches the messenger bag and they're out the door a few seconds later.

Kurt can feel Mike's eyes on him until they drive away.

:::

Hummel sits in the passenger seat, silently fiddling with his already flawless hair like he has been since the beginning of the car ride. It's like a nervous twitch or something, and it's annoying the hell out of Puck. Kurts hand rises up and touches a brunet lock or two and drops back down onto his lap, only to repeat the process every few seconds.

It's driving Puck full-on fucking _batshit_.

After what has to be the millionth time Kurt goes to pluck at his bangs, Puck's hand shoots across the seat and grabs a hold of the boy's wrist. He clutches Kurt a bit too tightly, but Puck's so distracted he doesn't even think of the possible damage he's inflicting on the boy's already-fragile body.

The heavy base of the radio eats up Kurt's sharp, pained intake of breath, and so Puck, oblivious, holds on until his cell phone vibrates. He huffs a tired sigh as he glances down at the small screen; when he recognizes Mike's phone number, he carelessly tosses the phone onto the dashboard.

There's no way in hell hes talking to Mike-not now, never again. That's what he tells himself, at least. A tense minute passes before the phone begins vibrating once more.

Puck answers this time, his jaw tense. He doesnt even bother to let Mike get a word in. "You call me again, and Im gonna kick your ass!" He seethes before turning the phone off. Frustrated, Puck cant help the slew of curses sliding past his lips as he slams his fists against the steering wheel.

He has enough shit on his plate as it is-the last thing he needs is to have to worry about Kurt Hummel, the resident fucking fag of Lima.

He slams his fist down again, but he's quick to apologize when Kurt lets out a strangled little yelp of fear. Its not Kurts fault, he tells himself. It isnt. But the thing is, whatever exactly happened between Mike and Hummel, its happened before. Maybe not the same exact thing, but

It's enough to make him worry.

He doesnt have all the facts. He has no idea how much is true. At the time it had all seemed like accusations, Mike had blamed the girl accused her of being the liar.

The truth is painfully clear now.

Three years ago, give or take, Mike had met a girl named Kara Tate at the funeral home where he worked. Her father had just passed away and the service had been held at Shady Hill. For some reason, Mike had become obsessed with her, he began telling everyone he knew that they were dating.

Kara had been a minor at the time, almost the same age as Kurt. Around some point, the mother, obviously creeped out, had a restraining order, as well as sexual assault charges brought up against his cousin.

According to the girl, Mike had been following her to school, even parking outside her house, for several months. He would peek through her bedroom window at night and take pictures of her. He even did the breathy-voice-on-the-phone routine you only heard of in slasher movies.

Somehow-Puck still has no idea how-Mike managed to avoid a prison sentence, and not even a week had passed before he was on the prowl once more

At the time it had all seemed pretty harmless to Puck. He hadnt even thought twice about inviting his cousin to McKinley to see their big game. After all, he was family.

Apparently, it had only stirred another infatuation. Puck had practically pained a target on Kurts back. Puck still has no idea what he said to Mike about the boy currently fidgeting in the passenger seat. He had gotten so drunk that night, after the teams first big win

"Puck?"

Kurt is holding a a bundle of cash out to him, an expectant look on his already miserable, tear-streaked face. Kurt's bag is sitting open on his lap, one hand clutching the straps while the other one waves mid-air. Kurt swallows nervously. This is all I have on me-Ill get you more, I promise. I just I mean, we could stop at an ATM if youd like

Puck shifts in his seat. Guilt is eating at him, making him uncomfortable. "Look, I dont want your money, Hummel."

"But you said..."

Puck shakes his head, "I just needed an excuse. I had to play it cool until I could get you the hell outta there."

Pulling up in front of a house, "Look, you can get cleaned up and then I'll take you home. Okay? Tomorrow, well pretend this never happened."

Kurt nods, looking too lost for words. He opens his wallet to replace the money, only to gape at it as his face rapidly pales. Puck licks his lips, forehead crinkling. "What's wrong?"

Hummel looks like hes about to have a panic attack as he slowly looks back up at him, "...My license-It's missing."

_Fuck_. "Are you sure?"

"Yes! I always keep it in here. I never take it out-never. He must have-Oh God, he took it. He knows where I live! Oh my God, do you think he'll..." Kurt is breathing heavily, his fingers shaking as they clinch onto his wallet. "He isnt going to go all Alex Forrest on my ass, is he? Because I dont think I could cope with something that surreal."

Puck isnt sure how to answer that question without scaring the hell out of Hummel, grabbing his cell before opening the car door.

A moment later, Kurt is jogging up behind him, trying to catch up as he clutches his messenger bag to his chest. Hes clearly freaked out and it makes Pucks chest pang even more. Puck takes a deep breath before unlocking the front door. His mother and sister are both out-hes never been so thankful for bingo night.

"The bathroom's down the hall, to the left. Use whatever you want. They're towels in the cupboard and- oh, fuck." Puck eyes the blood on Kurt's shirt with a scowl. He rubs a hand over his face. "If you want I can grab you something else to wear."

Kurt looks down at his clothes, his beautiful designer clothes, and nods. "Yeah, that would be..." He ducks his head and for a long moment, Puck thinks hes going to cry. He meets Pucks eyes and smiles tightly. "Just... thank you."

:::

Kurt takes his time in the shower, letting the water rush over his body long since the waters gone cold. He cant stop thinking about what could have happened had Puck not shown up when he did, what the man could have done to him. _What if._

Kurt stares down at the purplish black finger-shaped bruises encircling his wrists, and he feels a burning fire rising up again, from the pit of his belly all the way up to his throat. _What if what if what if_

His mind begins to race, but he doesnt bother stopping it this time.

Mike knows where he lives. He could come after him, his father. For some reason Mike wants him and from what Kurt's seen of Mike (enough to last him a lifetime), he doesnt really seem like the kind of person to give up easily. _What if-_

There is a light knock on the door but Kurt ignores it.

He can feel those rough hands all over his body as he coughs up what feels like a gallon of recycled Diet Coke. He'd skipped both breakfast and lunch in order to have more time for practice, and hes definitely paying the price now.

"Hummel?" A pause. "Kurt, you okay?" Puck asks.

_No_, Kurt thinks, _I'm not._

His name is called several more times, Pucks voice growing more and more panicked, but Kurt cant bring himself to answer. He slides down into the tub, and his body wont stop shaking. What if. Trembling from head to toe, he rests his head on his knees and he feels something within him snapping.

_What if Puck hadn't come?_ He lets go.

His eyes had been clinched shut, and when he opens them again, hes wrapped up in an oversized towel. Puck is shaking him roughly, and it makes Kurt feel like a rag doll. Those hazel eyes are wide and worried, and he looks concerned. Kurt cant seem to understand why-Puck doesnt care about him.

"Fuck, finally. You scared the shit out of me. You okay?" He asks. Kurt exhales sharply, eyes darting, looking around. Hes in a bedroom-Pucks bedroom?-and he's on Puck's bed while the other boy stands over him.

Kurt closes his eyes and leans forward, resting his damp forehead against Puck's shoulder. He can feel the larger boy tense up for a brief second before he wraps his arms around Kurt, holding him tight.

"It's gonna be okay," He murmurs, and Kurt clings to him tighter. He wants so badly for it to be true. "It's gonna be okay."

:::

/TBC

Comments are deeply appreciated :D


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